Saturday, January 21, 2006

Good thing I decided not to build out of straw...

Saturday, December 17, 2005

Thump, thump, thump.

I stop typing and tilt my head towards the sound, which seems like it's coming from upstairs.

Thump, thump, thump.

Holly, I think. Who else would be here this late?

I've ignored dozens of phone calls, deleted scores of email. Or, more accurately, saved them for future reference.

Thump, thump, thump.

I'm going to ignore her. She's not going to win. I'll just keep IM'ing, and she'll get tired of standing out there. It's pretty cold tonight.

Steve: holly is banging on my front door

Tim: so let her in!

Steve: are you high? this chick is psycho

Tim: you are so cute how you exaggerate sometimes

Tim: you get all flustered


Tim: isnt she like 16 or something

Steve: 18 almost

Tim: your scared of an 18-year old? :-)

Steve: im telling you shes fuckin psycho

Tim: did she attack you

Tim: slash your tires

Tim: break your windows

Thump, thump, thump. Thump, thump, THUMP! THUMP!

Steve: shes gonna break my fuckin door right down

Tim: still banging?

Steve: yep

Tim: go let her in!

Steve: im not letting her in, tim! im telling you, shes coocoo for coco puffs

Tim: lol

Tim: thought you were coming over tonight to bring me my skillet

Steve: i will as soon as i get rid of mighty mouse out there




Steve: shes gonna huff and puff and blow my house down in a minute


Tim: tell her not by the hair of your chiny chin chin

Steve: im glad you find humor in my misery

Tim: shes harmless, just a teenager in love... ahhhh how sweet

Tim: how many times did you sleep with her

Steve: just once

Tim: i guess she liked it

Steve: she was fine for almost a year


Steve: shit i think she just broke my storm door

Steve: SHIT

Tim: you take her too seriously

Steve: she broke my door tim!

Tim: told you to let her in!

Steve: brb

I run upstairs and fling the front door open. Holly stands unshiveringly in the windy cold, wearing tight, flowery bell-bottoms and a powder blue baby-doll shirt with frilly sleeves, examining an 18-inch long crack in the storm door.

"What's the matter with you, Holly? What is the matter with you?"

"I knew you were home and you weren't letting me in! You made me mad!" she says with a little stomp of her foot, white plumes of steam escaping her mouth as she speaks.

"Holly, you've gotta give this up. You have to!"

"Please let me in, just for a minute?" she begs, her voice muffled slightly by the thick glass.

"No. And you're gonna pay for that door."

"Oh yeah, like you can't afford it," she sneers, slamming the side of her fist against the glass, and I am struck by how much louder the Thump! is now.

I stare at her for a second, and she hits the door again, her eyes hard and furious, her chin tensed visibly, her teeth gritted.

"You're an asshole. You're an asshole!" she shreiks, her voice rising to a shrill scream that actually hurts my ears.

"If I'm an asshole, then leave me alone-" I begin, and she replies with a "fuck you!" before I'm even done saying it.

She stomps off to her car and speeds away, tires squealing wildly.

I call Chris.


"We need to do something tomorrow," I say.